A voice from the past
by kittykatiekat92
Summary: Alex is an adult now, with a life that doesn't involve MI6 or anything else that will risk his life- but what happens when someone from his past returns?
1. Chapter 1

After Jack died Alex had been depressed. Not oh I'm sad because I'm having a bad day- he felt like his soul had been ripped apart and a piece of it was gone never to return. He'd felt the same sadness when his uncle had died- and it had gotten better. Not perfect but not debilitating despair either. Knowing that hadn't made it any easier at the time though. Now ten years later he stood in front of her gravestone on the anniversary of her death; going over the events that lead to her murder, wondering if there was anything he could've done to stop it from happening. He'd only been _fourteen_ he knew that it wasn't his fault. That the events of his fourteenth year on this earth were events that were out of his control. He'd been a child. He _knew_ all of that logically, but that didn't stop the guilt that still ate away at his soul every day. He sighed. Normally he tried to forget about that time in his life, here he was standing and staring at a gravestone still lost in thought. He shook his head much like a dog trying to shake off water, he tried to shake the depressing thoughts out of his head.

"Alex, it's been a while." The voice from behind him spoke with barely any inflection and the smell of peppermint brought back a familiar feeling of dread.

"Ms Jones." He replied. Turning around he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. It felt odd seeing her now. She looked much the same with maybe a few more wrinkles around her eyes. He had changed quite a bit though- the way boys do when they turn into men. His hair was darker now, and he'd gotten quite tall. He was at least a head taller than Ms. Jones. He wondered what she saw. Did she look at him and see the 24 year old man that he'd become- or did she still see the teenager that had been in her office so long ago.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here."

"No- I wasn't actually. I think I'll be heading out now." He moved to head towards his motorcycle. Normally he would've been more polite- at least pretended to make small talk when he knew that there was an ulterior motive, but today, on the same day that Jack had died he didn't have the energy. He knew deep down that Jack would've probably responded the same way. It was a tiny victory but it still brought a small smile to his face as he turned his back on Ms Jones.

"Believe me, you'll want to know this."

Something in her voice gave him pause, she sounded almost, _sympathetic._ He stopped but didn't turn around.

"We have a person in custody who is refusing to talk to anyone but you."


	2. Chapter 2

When Alex walked in to the room he wasn't sure what he was expecting but it wasn't what he saw. A man sat with hands handcuffed to a ring in the table arms relaxed as if the unnatural position were something that he experienced daily. His head was down but from what Alex saw of him his hair was dark with some gray streaked through it, and hands covered in scars. He looked about average size and height but with strong forearms. It was clear that he worked with his hands- considering where he was Alex chose not to think about what that could mean. Then he lifted his head. Chocolate brown eyes so much like his own stared back at him. Ian Rider. Alex took a shaky breath and sat in the chair across from him. He crossed his arms and leaned onto the table separating the two.

"Alex." He looked imploringly at his nephew. Alex didn't respond. In the years that had followed his fourteenth year Alex had learned quite a lot. After moving in with the Pleasures he'd gotten back on track at school, Sabina had helped by tutoring and offering support when he needed it. It had been too hard to live together and date- they were much too young for a relationship to survive that. But their relationship had evolved into a friendship that had lasted through Alex's move to San Francisco and then eventually when he went back to London she had been a frequent visitor. Alex had been bouncing from job to job and was currently teaching martial arts at his old studio in London. Over the years he had become quieter: learning to watch and wait for people to tell him what he wanted to know- whether they said it verbally or not. So he watched, and he waited; for Ian Rider to tell him what he wanted.

"I never meant to hurt you…." He trailed off as if he wasn't sure what to say- or he was waiting for Alex to say something. Alex still waited.

Ian sighed. "You remind me of your father you know- he used to do the same thing that youre doing right now. He'd just sit and stare with those dark eyes and wait for you to reveal your secrets. It worked just about every time."

Alex settled in and waited some more.

"I need your help." _There it is._ Alex thought to himself.

"They think that I'm a criminal but I'm not. I know it looks bad letting them think that I was dead but there wasn't any other way! I had to keep you safe." This time Ian waited.

"How were you trying to keep me safe? You let me think you were dead." To Alex's own surprise his voice held no animosity just curiosity.

"I had gotten in some trouble with Scorpia, they knew who I was and they were going to kill me. If they had found me at home then they would've killed you too. So I made them stop looking. And the only way to do that is to make _everyone_ believe you're dead."

"That's quite the story." Alex kept the emotion from his voice. He had thought that he had _no one_ for ten years and now all of a sudden here is his uncle back from the "dead" and asking for help. Would he have ever shown up again if he didn't need him? Then again, if what he said was true there wasn't much he could've done other than disappear. Why now? "Why are you here now?"

"I tried to come back after I found out that they had recruited you- but after you fake your own death and MI6 believes you're dead then when you come back they think it's because you've gone rogue. Meaning you're a threat to national security. They take that very seriously. I had to go into hiding. By the time things had calmed down enough that I thought maybe I could contact you- you'd moved to America with the Pleasures. It seemed- wrong to upset your life even more. You had the chance for normal and I couldn't ruin that for you."

"I take it that you've explained this to them?"

"I wanted to talk to you first. It's the least I could do after, well, everything."

"Thank you." Alex stood up and turned to leave. Ian started to stand then realized he was still handcuffed and sat back down slightly awkwardly looking like he wanted to say something to keep Alex from leaving but not sure what to say. Alex walked out the door without looking back, Ms Jones was waiting for him.

"You knew." He said it quietly, without emotion. The accusation hung in the air between them for a moment before she slowly took a breath to respond.

"Yes. We did. Keep in mind you were a child Alex- we thought he had turned. We didn't want you to do the same after you found out about him."

"That wasn't your decision to make."

"You were fourteen! It was the only decision we could've made!"

"You're right- I was a child. So you could send me in to be killed but you couldn't tell me my uncle was alive?"

She had the grace to look uncomfortable. "The decision wasn't about you- it was about our country. You're not the kind of person we want as an enemy- so we did what we had to. Maybe it was the wrong decision- but it was ten years ago. I can't change that fact and neither can you. The question here is what to do about the dead man sitting in that room behind you."

"I'm not going to do anything. As far as I'm concerned he's been dead for ten years." He ran his fingers through his hair, making it stick out in odd directions, before turning and walking down the hallway to leave.

Two hours later Alex was starting to feel like the barstool he was sitting on was in fact a very unstable structure. He downed the last of the whiskey in front of him anyway before really starting to slide off the side of the stool. Catching himself at the last second he chuckled at his clumsiness before slapping money on the bar and lifting his hand to get the bartenders attention.

"Sorry man, that was your last one. Why don't' you switch to coffee?"

Alex sighed. The bartender was right. He was totally drunk but he didn't feel a bit better. He gave a half-hearted nod before he stumbled off the stool to use the bathroom. Finding it very hard to walk he was concentrating on the floor in front of him when he bumped into someone. He caught himself- barely- and said 'sorry mate, that's my bad' before moving to go around him. The next the he knew the man had drawn his arm back and punched full force into the side of his face. Alex's already precarious balance was thrown and he was unconscious before he hit the floor.


End file.
